Smith wasn’t feeling all that well. The dream, or whatever it was he had seen last night had really shaken him up. He could see the dark circles under his eyes as he looked in the mirror. His face could be considered handsome, but it was his grey eyes that he really liked. He used to think they were reflecting his inner self. Now they disgusted him. Any sight of grey brought back memories of what he had seen, and the laughter that he had heard. It haunted him. And then there was the face. Smith could see it everywhere. When he turned on the TV to catch the news, the anchor had that face. When he opened the door to get his mail, his neighbor in room 17 had cracked a joke and laughed. Smith just swore at him and hurried back inside.

He washed his face in cold water again. The tenth time that morning. He was desperate to get all the ash off. His face was red and flushed from all the scrubbing he had done. He slowly wiped his face and looked into the mirror. His eyes were bloodshot. He reached for his bottle of Jack. He always kept one nearby. He took a deep drink. Felt the alcohol. He wiped his face, and headed to his room.

He pulled on his nicest clothes, and the only pair of shoes he had. Today was the day after all, and a nightmare couldn’t ruin that for him. He looked at himself in the mirror. He was reminded of his wedding day. How pretty his wife, well ex-wife now, had looked. How smart he had been, with the white rose pinned on his lapel. Smith took another drink. The memories faded, and Smith was in the present again. He tried to comb his hair, but it was pointless. It would never stay down anyway. He was forgetting something. He knew it. Something important. Something other than the Spread function. He took out his phone. Opened up the calendar. The date was November 10th. It had something to with the date, and his wife. All of a sudden, it struck him. It was her birthday. He had missed their son’s, but he was not going to miss his wife’s.

Smith dialed his wife’s number. No response. He tried her cell, no luck. He logged in and tried sending an e-mail or a greeting card but he stopped. Took a deep drink from the bottle placed on the table nearby. Well today, he would set everything right. 6 years he’d been working day and night on this. He couldn’t even remember the night he’d gotten his wife pregnant, but she’d told him, and he had said,

“Well that’s great news honey. Now leave me alone. I’m in the middle of calculating the Transition Vector Matrix”.

She left him the day after. The divorce was easy, she just wanted out. Didn’t care about the assets or alimony, just wanted to leave him. He’d apologized. Cried over the phone, begged her to take him back, but she’d refused. Her one concession was telling him where she lived, so he could come and see his kid. He had visited every week the first 2 months, before Nayib had lost all sense of humanity and he found himself up to the eyebrows in the Spread function. He hadn’t visited her since. But he would today. As soon as the invention was working, and the press interview was over, he would head straight to her house, get down on one knee and propose to her all over again. He even thought of telling the whole world that he loved his wife on TV, if they interviewed him. They wouldn’t, but he felt nice thinking about it. But that was later in the evening. He still had to get through the day. Amanda floated through his head, her seductive eyes and silky voice enticing him. He cleared her away. No. He had to set things right with his wife. He finished dressing and had some breakfast.

He headed down the elevator and into his car. Turned the radio on. Some boy-band was singing about lost love. Smith found himself humming along as he drove. The weather was good. Smith had looked at the sky, drinking in its blue-ness for a full five minutes before he’d turned onto the highway.

Traffic was heavy. It was Monday, after all. He found himself stuck in a traffic jam, just as he turned into the main street. He glanced at his watch. 9.15 am. He would make it in time. The first trial was scheduled for 10. And he barely had 2 kilometers left to go. He turned the knob on the radio, searching for something else. The station he was on seemed to be doing a boy-band marathon, and Smith could only take so much teenage angst before he got irritated. He found some old classical rock. I could use a stairway to heaven he thought.

The Sun was out abnormally early. It was as high as it would be at noon. The light reflected off the side view mirror right into Smiths eyes as he sat humming along to Stairway to Heaven. He looked ahead. Traffic was still at a standstill. He glanced at the mirror and adjusted it. The man was standing right beside the car.

Smith couldn’t react. He could feel a gnawing warmth in his middle as adrenaline started flowing. The man was looking right at him, in a White suit and Blue shirt. He had on a White hat, that covered most of his blond hair. He tilted his hat, and melted into the backseat of Smiths car.

“Hello Smith. Fancy seeing you here”

Smith was still in shock. He started wiping his brow. Have to get all the ash off. Have to get all the ash off, was the only thought in his head.

“Oh don’t be silly. You don’t have any ash left on you.” The man’s voice was amused. He had a thin smile on his lips.

“Wha… What… what…” Smith stammered.

“What am I doing here? What day of the week is it? What’s global warming? Well which one is it, Smith?”

“What..What are you doing here?” Smith finally managed to say.

“Well I guess you could say I’m here to wish you luck. You are about to change the world after all. I mean, that doesn’t happen all that often, at least not in this time. Oops. I think I said too much.” The man’s grin was very wide now.

“But… But you’re not real. You were part of my dream”

“Who said you ever awoke?” The man was chuckling softly now

Smiths head was spinning. He could feel the blood pound away in his temples. He shook his head, and said mostly to himself,

“You’re not real. I know you’re not, so you don’t scare me.” He tried to sound defiant. He failed.

“On the contrary, I absolutely positively terrify you. Don’t get me wrong, I’m flattered and all that, but you don’t have to be scared. Don’t worry about your sanity either. It’s still intact for the most part, though you really should lay off on the whiskey.”

“So if I’m not mad, and you’re not part of my imagination, what the bloody hell are you?” Smith could feel some fire now. The adrenaline was starting to kick in.

“As I said earlier, that’s a surprise, and I don’t want to ruin it. You’ll know soon enough. Till then, all the best, and thank you in advance. I wouldn’t make too many long term plans though. God has a funny way of laying waste to man’s best laid plans.” The man laughed at his joke.

Smith wasn’t particularly amused. He reached for the man’s collar, but the man just disappeared, leaving Smith looking at an empty backseat. The car behind him was blaring its horn. Smith was holding up traffic. He wiped his face one last time, put the car into drive and drove on. He turned the radio off. Focused all his attention on driving.

Smith pulled into the parking lot. A nod to the guard and straight into the elevator. The same music was playing. Smith found himself getting unnaturally irritated at its cheerfulness. He stepped off onto his floor.

Everyone was already there. People were running around with sheets of paper in their hands, ties flapping as they rushed by. Nayib was in deep discussion with a group of technicians. Smith was surprised to see him not eating anything. As he watched Nayib reached into his pocket and pulled out a chocolate bar. Bit the wrapper off savagely and crammed the whole thing in his mouth. The people he was talking to looked away politely. Bits of chocolate fell on his white shirt. Smith laughed to himself. He heard a voice in his ear and smelt floral perfume.

“Hey you.” Amanda pulled him around.

She was dressed in a red suit. Not the flashy red, the elegant red. Her hair was done up in a bun, a few strands of which were loose already. She had tried to push them back, and now the bun was off-centre. She was wearing make-up, just enough that it looked natural. Her lips were done in blood red lipstick. Small white teeth showed through as she grinned at him. Smith felt his heart beat faster.

“Hello Amanda. Sorry I’m late. Traffic was bad.” He remembered the man and shuddered.

“It’s okay. There’s still a lot to do before we can put in your values anyway. So it’s fine.” She smiled at him.

Smith desperately wanted to kiss those red lips, but he held himself back. He had a marriage to put back together, a son to be a father to. He looked down at his feet. Amanda was wearing the same ones she had on yesterday. Suddenly he felt her hand on his arm. His family vanished into those deep red lips. He turned to look at her.

“What are you thinking?”

Smith desperately wanted to tell her, but he couldn’t. He had to make something up.

“Your lips are very pretty!” He blurted out, regretting it immediately as he saw Amanda’s expression change.

Amanda pulled her hand back sharply. She looked like she had just been slapped in the face.

“Smith, I think you’ve gotten the wrong idea. I’ve work to do. Excuse me.” She started walking away.

“Amanda, I’m sorry! Amanda-” He started after her.

She just shook her head and started walking faster. A few more strands came loose from her bun. Smith swore and looked around. The office was dressed up. Streamers hung from the ceiling. A man in white was setting up a bar in the corner. Smith had seen a catering truck parked downstairs.

He had nothing to do for a while yet. The machine still had to be set up and dry run before his calibrations had to be input. He headed over to the bar. The man setting it up looked at him as he approached.

“I’m not technically supposed to give you anything right now, but you look like you need it. What can I get you?”

Smith looked over the bottles. He hadn’t had Vodka for a while.

“Give me a shot of your vodka.”

“Sure thing.” The man pulled out a small glass and poured some of the clear liquid in it and handed it over to Smith.

Smith downed it at once, spluttering slightly as it went down his throat. He instantly felt the heat.

“Can I get another?” He looked back to the barman with the glass extended. He shook it once in a mute please.

“I don’t think so. Why don’t you meet me afterwards and I’ll see what I can do then.”

Smith placed the glass back down. He noticed Nayib in the middle of the office having a very animated discussion with someone. He couldn’t see who as Nayib’s bulk blocked his sight. Smith slouched into a chair in the corner, and tried to find Amanda. He couldn’t. He felt himself longing for a drink. He looked over at the bar, shooting the barman the dirtiest look he could manage. The barman just shrugged and went back to wiping glasses.